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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675129">An Unhealthy Obsession</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invertoalbedo/pseuds/Invertoalbedo'>Invertoalbedo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yandere Craig [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Mystery, Stalking, Thriller, Yandere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:02:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invertoalbedo/pseuds/Invertoalbedo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Some call it stalking, I say walking just extremely close behind<br/>I'm sure if I sat down and asked you, well you really wouldn't mind..<br/>You've got those eyes that drive me crazy, and I've got eyes to watch you sleep<br/>I brought a pack lunch and some coffee for my stakeout in your tree... "</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Yandere Craig [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Unhealthy Obsession</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first note fell gently down from his open locker door, landing lightly on the top of his boot. So lightly that Kyle wouldn't have noticed it if not for Stan pointing it out to him as he grabbed his backpack and his favourite worn green ushanka. He picked it up and stared at it curiously while the two slowly made their way down the hallway and out the crowded front doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle ripped the slightly crumpled and dirty envelope open while Stan stretched the kinks in his back away, a relaxed smile on his face knowing it was the weekend. The ginger scrunched his nose in confusion at the small piece of yellow paper inside, letting Stan grab his hat for him and pull it down onto his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's it say, dude?" He asked him, pulling out his car keys and barely dodging a freshman running by that was late for the bus home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's one of those prescriptions you get from the doctors," Kyle noted, his eyes looking it over and seeing the address for the...abortion clinic? "What the fuck?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, dude? What does it say?" Stan repeated with more interest this time, bending his head down to get a better look at it. But Kyle shoved his head away, moving to get a better look at it in the direct sunlight. Small messy handwriting was near the bottom, slightly faded and hard to read. It took a few seconds for Kyle's far sighted eyes to adjust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>The shorts you wore in gym today looked good on you, Kyle."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath hitched at his name, and the jew frantically read and reread the small sentence over and over again, thinking that he must have read it the wrong way or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude." He looked up at Stan, who was waiting impatiently with his hands in his coat pockets for Kyle to explain what was going on to him. Kyle shoved the note at him instead and they both bent down to read it together. Stan being with better eyesight found the message quickly and stared at Kyle like it was a funny joke that he wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh at or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This isn't funny, Stan." Kyle hissed, marching away from him and the offending item towards Stan's busted up Honda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Seriously," Stan said, unlocking the car doors and sliding into the crappy blue car next to him. He started the vehicle and blasted the half working heater to get the windows defogged. "Who wrote this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do you expect me to know?" Kyle asked grumpily, looking at the note Stan was holding up in his hand and back down to the ripped but blank envelope in his. Kyle scrutinized it, looking in and around it for any noticeable markings beyond the obvious dirt and</span>
  <em>
    <span> weird</span>
  </em>
  <span> stains. Finding none he swiped the creepy but harmless piece of paper from Stan's grasp and angrily shoved both into the side pocket of his backpack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude," Stan waited with his hand on the gear stick. "That's it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's just some dumb prank by Cartman, okay?" He grumbled, embarrassed. "Just drive."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan reluctantly did just that, pulling out of the icy parking lot while Kyle leaned his hot forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window. He noticed a small group of smokers just at the edge of the school property and locked eyes with an expressionless Craig Tucker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed staring at each other while Stan waited for the buses to go by. Kyle watched the black haired man suck in deeply from his cigarette and let it hiss out through his teeth, never once looking away or even blinking. The ginger tried not to shudder at the intensity of his gaze but it was hard, the dude was known for having creepy eyes. Half-lidded, dead, creepy looking eyes. Kyle couldn't handle it any longer and finally looked away just as the car started moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He subtly looked back again and noticed Craig not so subtly giving him the finger. Fucking asshole.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The second note came the Monday after. It was lunch time and Kyle hurried to put his books away so he could join the rest of the guys in the cafeteria. He hadn't meant to stay so long, but he wanted to look over some things on his project with Mrs. Kurpatrick. This time he noticed when it fell out of his locker and onto the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ginger slammed his lunch tray down at the table, toppling over his bottle of gatorade and Kenny's half drunk bottle of chocolate milk he mooched off of Butters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You fucking asshole!" Kyle spat out across the table to Eric Cartman, who stopped in mid bite of his second lunch. Kyle flung the yellow piece of paper and dingy envelope at the confused fatty, who looked down at it like it was used toilet paper. "Quit putting these in my locker, you stupid fat fuck! It's not funny!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck off, jew," Cartman shot back out of habit. "Why would I put a piece of paper in your filthy rat burrow?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who else would?" He shouted back, exasperated. Sitting down he noticed Stan had reached across him to grab the note. Kyle started unwrapping his sandwich and angrily took a bite glaring at Cartman with the usual hate in his eyes while Stan's expression dropped dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to live in a nest of your hair."</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stan read in a monotone voice, looking up at Cartman accusingly as he said it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You see what he wrote!" Kyle waved his hands around the table in frustration, trying to prove his point to everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's really creepy," Token agreed, staring back and forth between the note and the fatso. "That's definitely something you'd do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"W-wha? I did</span>
  <em>
    <span> not</span>
  </em>
  <span> write that you guys," Cartman looked offended, while the rest of the guys looked unimpressed. "Seriously, I'm totally serious, Kyle. Why would I want to live in your greasy giant jewfro? That's sick, that's totally fucking sick! You mother fucking assholes stop staring at me like that!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman grabbed for the note still in Stan's hand but Kyle blocked him and Stan pulled it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is goddamn bullshit!" Cartman whined. "Give me that!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why? So you can rip up the evidence!" Kyle accused, pulling out the other note from his pocket and gave it to Token.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>The shorts you wore in gym today looked good on you, Kyle."</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clyde read it out loud over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's the note he put in my locker on Friday!" Kyle explained to the bewildered crowd, who were getting more and more riled as more and more of them went to read the two incriminating notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Haha, holy shit," Kenny laughed. "Cartman's gay for Kyle!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"NO I'M NOT, YOU FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT!" Cartman roared, face red from anger and excursion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do you explain these then?" Kyle grabbed for the papers and viciously waved them in Cartman's tubby face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I DIDN'T GAWDDAMN DO IT."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're such a fucking liar, fatass! You're the only one who does things like this!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two teens were nearly nose to nose, looking more like rabid dogs ready to maul each other to death by the second, and a small group of eager onlookers started forming around them to witness another one of the infamous fights between Kyle Broflovski and Eric Cartman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>What if he didn't do it?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>A low but very audible voice chimed in, stopping their square off long enough for them both and in turn everyone else to stare at it's nonchalant owner. Craig was still sitting down in his original spot at the table, looking like the haughty asshole he always makes himself off to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ha! At least someone here has a fucking brain in their head!" Cartman beamed, and Kyle directed his rage at the new intruder, marching angrily over to him and planting himself not a foot away from the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How the fuck would you know, Craig?" Kyle demanded. "Do you have evidence that he didn't do this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Craig monotoned. Looking up at the steaming jew. "Do you have evidence that he did?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who else would it be?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, you don't have any then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why the fuck are you defending </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cartman</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people?" Kyle snapped, unconsciously leaning towards Craig in an aggressive gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not. I'm just not jumping to conclusions."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig's blunt and smug answer nearly made Kyle take a swing at him. Luckily (or unluckily for the crowd) Stan pulled his best friend away from Craig before he could get himself suspended, or worse, beaten to a bloody pulp by the apathetic but deadly asshole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was no secret that Craig Tucker had gotten more violent and aggressive as they grew up. Apparently he started hanging out with Trent Boyett in sophomore year and learned a thing or ten from the psycho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle was grabbed and pushed by Stan and a trailing Kenny through the disappointed crowd and out the cafeteria to a nearly empty hallway, while the obnoxious laughter of the fatass rang in his ears along the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Those fucking- ugggh!" Kyle nearly popped a blood vessel in his forehead. Not just Cartman but Craig had to just piss him off royally today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Chill dude," Stan pried his white-knuckled fists down by the wrist, easing them gently to Kyle's sides before giving him an awkward hug/back rub. "You need to relax, okay? Even if it isn't Cartman, we'll find out who's doing this and get them to stop."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah! And we can just blame him anyways if we don't find them," Kenny jokingly chimed in, earning a pointed look from Stan while Kyle started to calm down from Stan's ministrations. "What? It's not like he doesn't deserve it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just want whoever it is to just leave me alone." Kyle admitted, it was only the starting of the week and he was exhausted.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The fifth note came in the pile of mail his mother had lying on the kitchen table. She offhandedly remarked about there being a letter for him when he got home from Stan's house and he nearly froze at the now familiar dirty brown envelope that has been showing up in his locker every day this past week, except for today. He thought the sick fuck had finally gotten bored and had given up when he found his locker wonderfully empty this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he wasn't that fortunate. This was South Park, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slipped it cooly into his pocket while his mother was making dinner and quietly made his way up to his room. As soon as the door closed and his light was on he tore through the dingy paper and ripped out the yellow slip inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle tried ignoring the notes when they came, but his demented need to know what was written on them made him give in. He even went as far as pulling one out of the trash that he tried to get rid of. It was pathetic. He wasn't afraid, he was just so angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sometimes I jack off to the thought of fucking you on the hood of my car."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The muscles in his stomach tightened in nausea, and a feeling of dread came bubbling up to the surface along with it. The notes have never been this...graphic before. He read and reread the note again, a habit he started to acquire with every new message. He then grabbed his phone and took a picture of both the note and envelope before stuffing them away into the bottom drawer of his computer desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle debated phoning Stan or Kenny and telling them, but he didn't want to have to deal with it this late at night. Looking out the window, he paranoidly surveyed the area, imagining a faceless stranger hiding behind every tree or bush in the shadows and creeping up the fences like an animal waiting to strike.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The tenth note came on a Tuesday, and was crumpled in his fist by the first period that morning. No matter how much they surveyed his locker, even getting up at 5 am in the morning to just sit there and wait, a note would be there. It was starting to drive Kyle (just a bit) insane. He had no clue who it was other than it probably was a dude and most likely Cartman. Maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle bit into his apple while mulling over the facts and photos he took with his phone. Usually he'd be with his group of friends during lunch, but he found a small alcove near the back doors of the school that was much more suitable for his mental state. He couldn't handle being around them at the moment, all they wanted to do was pry or blame each other over who could be his </span>
  <em>
    <span>stalker</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stalker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's what it's called. He has a stalker now. What else would you call someone who's apparently watching your every move and sneaking to your house to drop off way too personal letters telling you so. He pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket and stared down at it for the dozenth time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to choke him in front of you just to see the look on your face. Would you cry?Would I even care?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle's head snapped up at the cold words that came out of nowhere to see Craig staring down at him and his note.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you want, Craig?" He hissed, moving to shove the death threat back into his pocket when Craig shot his hand out in a gesture like he wanted something. Kyle stared up at the looming figure hesitantly, noticing the strong smell of cheap tobacco before placing the note into long and bony fingers. He watched with caution as Craig read the note again, looking it over in bored concentration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who's </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're talking about choking someone in front of you, who is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know." Kyle admitted. He couldn't figure out who the stalker was talking about. Stan, Kenny, Ike, his dad, Cartman even. He has a lot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>hims</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his life and it was too vague to really place just one person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about the abortion clinic?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about it?" Kyle pondered back, looking up at the noiret, waiting for an explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All these messages have the address to the downtown abortion clinic on them, did you check it out?" Craig clarified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Kyle realized that he actually hadn't. Which wasn't like him, he's usually really good at finding out and researching things. He's also usually in a better mental state when doing so though. "No, I haven't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well you should figure this out already, I'm sick of my lunch breaks turning into the debate club."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh sorry, Craig," He sarcastically replied. "I didn't mean to make this a goddamn inconvenience for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Apology accepted."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle held back a growl, choosing to instead glare holes into the back of a retreating Craig Tucker's head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's still an asshole.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The twentieth note made him snap. He found himself at the trailer park, banging violently on the dingy front door of the McCormick residence at 10 o'clock, Saturday morning. A hungover Carol answered in a ratty t-shirt and Betty Boop PJ's covering her eyes from the blaring morning sunlight and not looking too happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah? Wha'da ya want?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is Kenny home?" Kyle asked curtly, too full of adrenaline and anger for pleasantries either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I think so."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good." He swerved by her and headed straight towards Kenny's room down the hall. He found the blond still in bed and yanked the covers off of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck you."</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kenny hissed out and curled himself deeper into the fetal position for warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am done with this bullshit! Do you understand? DONE."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhmm."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've fuckin' had it with this stupid drama and I'm putting a fucking end to it </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>." Kyle declared, grabbing his friend by the wrists and yanking him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't do this to me, please. I just want to go back to bed." He moaned and squirmed out of Kyle's grip and tried to grab for the tossed blanket on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"NO. This is the last fuckin straw, you're gonna help me and it's gonna be done and over with."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why now? Why can't it wait until like...noon?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because!" Kyle let him go, angrily walking around the bed to start searching through the bedside table. The blond took the chance to pick the cover up and quickly cocoon himself back into his previous position. He tried to fall back asleep but the loud shuffling noises the redhead made was making it impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Finding out who my stalker is." Kyle answered quickly while tossing aside one of Kenny's many...magazines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And how is going through my shit going to help you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm eliminating you as a possible suspect." He started looking into the dressers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, Holmes, what do you deduce?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That your room is a filthy pig sty." The closet was next and Kyle declined to comment when he saw the Mysterion costume still hanging up in the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course." Kenny sighed out, happily finding that comfy spot on his bed to snuggle into before being thrown onto the floor by Kyle lifting up his damn mattress from under him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck are you even looking for?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> He angrily pulled himself up off the floor while the sound of his mom kicking the wall and muffled yelling to keep it down made him sigh out dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Brown envelopes, prescription pads from the Abortion Clinic, questionable and suspicious items- you know, the things my stalker keeps sending me!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, okay. I understand." Kenny lowered his voice while fixing his mattress and gently coaxing his friend to sit down. "I get that this is eating away at you. But I can assure you, Kyle. Dude, look at me-look at me. I'm not your stalker, I wouldn't do that to you, okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know…," Kyle relaxed a bit, taking a deep breath while the blond sat down gently beside him. "I'm just so fed up with it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled out a piece of paper from his jeans pocket and handed it over to Kenny to read. He already knew what it was but it still shocked the blond when he unfolded it and read what's inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm gonna use his blood as lube while I fuck you into the dirt."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny's face flinched in horror, before reverting to an expression of sympathy as he rubbed the tense boy's back. Over the years both Stan and him learned that Kyle usually calmed down with physical contact and plenty of verbal reassurance. This time though instead of letting his defenses down and leaning into the touch, he tensed even more with a determined look in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's Cartman. I'm 99% sure that no one else would be this fucking cruel to me. It has to be him." Every bone in his body screamed that it was the fat bastard, but there was a small part of him that started to doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what if it isn't him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then it has to be one of us...This piece of shit talks about seeing me in gym class- and jacking off to me- it can't be a girl and it would explain why they keep appearing in my locker despite everyone being on the lookout."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, let's get going then." Kenny sat up and stretched his arms towards the ceiling before bending down to grab for a shirt, shoes and his parka.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean?" Kyle bolted up confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not the only one you want to eliminate as your possible stalker, right?" He smiled confidently at his stunned yet grateful friend while zipping up his coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks dude." Kyle returned the smile, feeling more and more optimistic by the second.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Why do you need to check my room?" Stan asked the impatient ginger in front of him as he blocked the door to it. He was just relaxing on the couch, enjoying the free reign of the TV while his dad and sister Shelly were both gone to their jobs when Kyle and Kenny burst into the house and headed towards the upstairs with barely a small "Hey Stan" from the blond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, get the fuck out of the way." Kyle demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"First I want to know what's going on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just do it, Stan." Kenny pushed the confused man out of the way while Kyle pried the door open and dived in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Make sure he doesn't move from that spot, I don't need him trying to hide evidence!" The ginger warned as he started rummaging through the shocked boy's laundry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the hell, Kyle?" Stan moved to stop the ginger from finding embarrassing things he shouldn't but Kenny held him back with a raised arm to his chest and a relaxed smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He did the same to me, just let him get it out of his system, okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is this about his stalker? I'm not stalking you, dude!" Stan pleaded with Kyle who was tearing through his dresser now with a gusto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, we know that," Kenny explained. "But we're...and I quote "eliminating you as a possible suspect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" Stan didn't seem convinced, in fact, he seemed to get more nervous the more Kyle went through the pile on top of his dresser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah hah!" The ginger loudly proclaimed as he grabbed at something hidden behind it. It was a dirty magazine, this time though instead of the usual blonde bombshells with tits the size of cow udders on the front it was naked men, all with varying shades of red hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"DUDE, what the fuck is this?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh...uh-" Stan was sweating now, looking like he was gonna puke. He definitely was gonna puke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh that's where it went! I was looking for that!" Kenny quickly grabbed for the book but Kyle wouldn't give it to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh really? This is yours, Kenny?" Kyle glared at the two of them skeptically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of, course!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then why was it in Stan's room?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cause I forgot it here? It must have fallen behind there, thanks Kyle!" Kenny's smile was too bright, too forced and Stan could tell, but Kyle just sighed, rolled up the magazine and tried to hit the blond over the head with it three or four times before he could grab it and stick it in his jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I find one more of your goddamn porno magazines I'm gonna take them all and burn them in front of you!" Kyle growled out before starting on Stan's closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You know that's still mine, right? I need it back." </span>
  </em>
  <span>Stan panickedly whispered at the blond next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry, I'll give it back to you...later."</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The trip to Cartman's room was more difficult than they anticipated, seeing that Mrs. Cartman wouldn't let them in because Cartman wasn't home and they had to improvise and break into his bedroom through the second story window. They've done it hundreds of times as kids though, so that really wasn't the difficult part. The difficult part was sneaking around inside without her hearing them or Cartman suddenly coming home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately he did and they didn't find any envelopes or doctors notes, just a large dartboard filled with mutilated pictures of Kyle attached to it by darts in his closet. Fortunately though, they did escape before he could haul his fatass up the steps and scream bloody murder for finding out that someone went through his things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle scrolled through the pictures on his phone as they walked back to Stan's place. He was smart enough to document the collage of pics just in case it could be used for evidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, my mom wants me to go get groceries." Stan stated suddenly, looking up from his own phone as they reached his house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, we still need to go check out everyone else!" Kyle exclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why? It's obviously Cartman, he's just hiding all the paper somewhere else." Stan tried to argue back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what if it's someone else? You don't have to deal with this shit, Stan. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I do.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And I want it to stop!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay- Okay, we can start again later," Kenny intervened. "Besides...I need more smokes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude!" Kyle watched as they both slid into Stan's car with betrayal in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, Kyle. Just get in." Stan moaned, revving up the engine to try to warm it faster. He just stood there though in the cold, freezing his ass off with his arms crossed in an angry gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever, I'll do it by myself." He turned on his heels, and stalked down the street, ignoring the frustrated sighs and calls from his friends. If groceries and tobacco were more important to them than finding a psychotic piece of shit that's stalking him ASAP, then fine. He'd do it on his own.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Clyde was very helpful and open to letting Kyle mess through his stuff. Despite Kyle's pissy attitude and aggressive demeanor, he didn't even hesitate when leading the ginger up to his room. He didn't find anything there either, but he did notice Craig Tucker leaving out the front door of the Donovan residence and walking quickly and quietly to his own house the next door over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, was Craig here?" Kyle asked, looking over to the skinny-fat brunet that was still standing in the spot he was told to 10 minutes ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh yeah, we're playing League of Legends in the basement. Why?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because he just went back to his house." Kyle said and pointed out the window for emphasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? Are you serious?" Clyde rushed to look outside, which was pointless because Craig was already inside. "That asshole, I'm gonna-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde made his way to march out his bedroom but Kyle grabbed his arm to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, I need to eliminate him as a suspect as well. I'll go with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, sure." Clyde agreed and they made the short trek to the Tucker family’s door. "You know, I think it's pretty cool that you're doing this. It's like you're a detective or something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah well, it's not like the police in this town would do anything about it." Kyle bitterly remarked while the brunet rang the doorbell. Mr. Tucker answered the door and just made a quick "oh hey" before letting them both in. When they got to the top of the steps Clyde knocked politely on Craig's door and waited patiently in place like he was used to it. He caught Kyle's raised brow though and explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Craig hates it when people barge into his room."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, I see." Kyle hummed and looked down at his feet. He noticed something on the cream-white carpet, it was dust. A square of gray dust rested on the rug around his feet and he looked up at where it would have fallen from to find the entrance to the attic. It must have been recently opened, because the rest of the carpet was spotless. The ginger felt a sudden urge to get up there and look around, but it was squashed down when the door finally opened. It revealed a towering Craig Tucker with his ever present bitch face looking none too happy about their company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey dude. Why'd you leave?" Clyde asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because you did."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh well, I was just helping Kyle out for a few minutes," Clyde chuckled and smiled when the lanky teen let him through. "I would have been back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle made to enter as well but was barred from entrance by a lean, long and muscular arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And what do you want?" Craig asked snarkily, looking down at the ginger in boredom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well...I'm gonna have to check your room." Kyle replied in a serious tone. He hated the fact that Craig was taller than him. The ginger always felt pretty adequate about his height until Tucker came into the picture. He definitely got his height from his parents. The freaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't think my room was your </span>
  <em>
    <span>property</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, he just wants to eliminate you as a suspect for the whole stalker thing." Clyde replied behind him while playing with Craig's pet guinea pig on the bed. Craig wasn't budging though and it made Kyle a little impatient. He glared up at the stoic man, trying to get his point across and make the asshole move with just his eyes, but instead was forced into a stupid staring contest. Green met grey and it took all of Kyle's pride not to flinch away at the natural intensity of Craig's gaze. He really did have a creepy set of eyes. They were too light, too focused, too...unnerving. They reminded him of the eyes that Husky's sometimes had, with their constricted pupils and all...sort of like a predator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ow! Stop that!" Clyde's voice ended the silent battle brewing between the two males and Craig finally relented, stepping aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you." Kyle muttered out without much feeling, looking around the room to see where he would start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Touch anything in my room and you'll be limping home." Craig casually warned as he took a seat at his computer desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh-What? What do you think I'm here for? To play cards and drink tea?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this room is my property. You touch my property without my permission and your ass is handed to you on a platter." Craig stated like he was a lawyer reading off the fine print to a contract.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Except me." Clyde laughed at his own joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Except Clyde," Craig agreed. "Everything in this room, </span>
  <em>
    <span>except Clyde</span>
  </em>
  <span>, belongs to me. So you don't have the right to come in here and do whatever you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle glared defiantly back at the smug asshole before eyeballing the dresser to his left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Try it. I dare you." Craig threatened. Kyle thought about it. He was itching to look through it and he gauged how accurate the rumours of Craig's fighting skills were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ow! Dude, get Bro-Bro to stop biting my fingers!" Clyde whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought his name was Stripes?" Kyle pondered out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, Stripes passed away like- three years ago. This here is Bro-Bro."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"His name is just Bro." Craig injected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I like calling him Bro-Bro, it sounds cooler." Clyde held up the squirming rodent, and Kyle noted it's long and fluffy orange fur that was different from Stripes short, white and spotted coat. "Do you want to hold him? Oh wait- Craig can Kyle hold him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Awesome! Here you go, dude." Clyde enthusiastically passed him the fluff ball and not one second after he was bitten on his thumb by its tiny teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I forgot to warn you he bites a lot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can see that." Kyle hissed out while carefully sitting down on the bed and letting "Bro" sit in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm pretty sure he's bitten Craig over a thousand times." The brunet admitted. "Right, Craig? Oh wait, he doesn't call them bites, he calls them nibbles, kisses and love-bites."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle let out a snort while Clyde was pelted by something Craig found on his desk. Well maybe Craig wasn't a complete asshole.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The twenty fifth note came with a picture. He knew something had changed the moment the envelope hit his palm and the weight of it was off. It was just a photo, the kind you can print off yourself from any public library for 10 cents a sheet. But the contents of it made a creeping feeling of panic start from his lower intestines that slowly crawled up to his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was taken in the gym's locker room, at an angle that it was impossible to tell who was taking the photo and with no one else in the shot but Kyle's bare asscheeks. He knew it was his own ass by the fact that no one else is that scrawny in his class and no one else had a light coating of red hairs on their thighs. A nearly transparent white stain that covered the majority of his ass made him dry heave when he finally realized what it and the stains in the previous envelopes were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The urge to crumple the damaging photo up into a tiny ball and feed it to the nearest fire hit him violently, and he had to stop himself from doing just that as he stood there shaking uncontrollably in the empty hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't go to class and pretend like everything's okay until lunch time where everyone got riled up into a frenzy about it only to move on to another mundane topic to talk about like it was just another point of drama and gossip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle picked up his backpack, stuffed the papers into it and slammed his locker door shut so loudly it created an echo down the hallway. There was no way he was staying here any longer, he'd go to the mall or some place else until the end of school, as long as he could get away from the madness and the unnameable one for just one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stomping down the icy pathway to the front entrance, he realized he wasn't the only one playing hooky as there was a group of people at the smoker's spot. It was just the goths, which didn't surprise him really until he noticed Craig with them as he passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Skipping class, Broflovski?" A deep voice made him stop in his tracks and turn back around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's it to you, Craig?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wanna ride?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?" Kyle asked suspiciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because, I'm offering." Craig replied, finishing off his cigarette and flicking it into the snow on the ground. The offer was tempting, it was cold as frozen balls out there and the chance of his mom catching him walking down the street if she went to the grocery store or someplace similar was pretty high.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would you take me to the abortion clinic?" The chuckling and snorts he received from the eavesdropping goths made his rosy cheeks turn red in rage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Didn't know Raven had it in him." Pete morbidly jokes, flipping his bangs and smirking at his friends' approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mind your own goddamn business!" Kyle growled out before being roughly grabbed by Craig who started to drag him towards the school's parking lot and away from the sniggering goths who weren't the least phased by his little tantrum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ignore them and get in," Craig all but demanded as he slid into the driver's seat and started it up smoothly. "Don't touch anything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>won't.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" He bit back, giving a once over to the Navy 2009 hatchback before sliding into the passenger seat and doing up his seat belt. Looking over his shoulder he noticed there was an oddly large number of seatbelts hooked up in the backseat. "Why do you have like- six seat belts back there?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuckin Clyde-," Craig grabbed an empty Baskin Robbins cup and bag and tossed them out the window before steering out of his parking spot and answering the ginger. "Previous owner had them installed; I haven't gotten them taken out yet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck were they doing? Transporting mental patients?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't care."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing more was said on the short trip to the clinic. Before Kyle could continue the conversation Craig had started blasting some unknown indie band on the stereo speakers and Kyle jumped to the conclusion that the man next to him was one of those pretentious music snobs. He's still an asshole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you get another letter today?" The question was innocent enough, but Kyle tensed in his seat and tried to distractedly look out the window instead of answer it. The sign for the South Park Abortion Clinic loomed in front of them, mere feet away from the parking lot they were currently idling in. "I'll take that as a yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle ruffled through his bag and threw the envelope at the curious boy, too angry again at the memory to speak about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to put you in a cage, it'll be like you're my own pet that I can play with and feed." </span>
  </em>
  <span>Craig quoted out loud. There was no passion in his deep monotone voice, and it made the threat sound ridiculous. "Is there anything else?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is it? You only got this letter again? Nothing else that could lead somewhere?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uggh-" Kyle ground his teeth in, stubbornly pulling the photo out of his bag by the corner of it and quickly tossing it to him. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but pretty much everyone of the guys saw each other naked since growing up and going through school and sports together. Who gives a shit if Craig saw a picture of his ass. No big deal. But as Craig gently picked it up and looked over it, he suddenly felt very self conscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I go in now?" Kyle asked in a rush, quickly stuffing the dirty items back in the bag quicker than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That didn't really help."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That you for pointing that out." Kyle snapped back, getting out of the still running vehicle and marched to the clinic's front doors. Before he could open them though a long arm reached around him and did it for him. "Hey, thanks for the ride but you don't have to come in with me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not the only one who wants it to go back to normal, Broflovski."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh...thanks dude." Kyle beamed, and he really meant it this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing came of asking around the clinic. They didn't have any idea how someone could have gotten one of their blank prescription pads and any clients they had were strictly confidential for obvious reasons.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The day the forty first note came in the mail was the day everything went to shit. Even before he had a chance to open the dreaded letter his phone was being blown up with texts and Stan was banging frantically against his front door early Saturday morning. His mother let the panicked teen in and he rushed into the kitchen where Kyle and his brother were eating their breakfasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, you're not gonna believe this-" He puffed out between breaths. "But Bebe Stevens is in the hospital. She got attacked by someone last night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit." Ike looked horrified, looking to his brother and mom for their reactions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean by attacked?" Kyle felt a sinking feeling in his chest, like this was more than a cat fight at a house party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They cut out her eyes and broke every bone in both her hands apparently." Stan announced. "It's really bad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my that poor girl-" Sheila broke in. "I should go phone her parents, they're probably devastated."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit, you're not joking." Kyle said when his mother was out of earshot, he started reading through the messages in his phone that all said basically the same thing. He got up from the table and quickly sped-walked to his room with Stan trailing behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the browser on his desktop he searched for recent attacks in South Park and came across at least half a dozen news outlets in Colorado with details on the assault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who the fuck would be sick enough to do that?" Stan pondered out loud, and the question made Kyle's sense of unease grow deeper in the pit of his stomach. He gave a small, hesitant glance down at the brown package waiting to be opened on his desk. There's no way it could be...but some instinctual part of him knew even before he tore it open that it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is what you get for letting her touch you so casually. This is all your fault."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The picture that accompanied the note nearly made him gag. It was a close up of a Bebe's face, clearly in pain with nothing but red where her eyes should have been. In fact, there was nothing but red all over her face, with only a few tufts of her blonde wavy hair that weren't blood soaked to identify her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude." Kyle didn't know what else to say, and Stan couldn't say anything at all when he showed him the bloody evidence.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The meeting was held in Token's living room, for the longest time though they had always met up at Cartman's basement. That was impossible now, as the basement was too small and cramped for the group of large and puberty-stricken teens. The expensive decor and full fireplace was a vast contrast to the Coon's lair of their childhood and the problems they all faced now were much more personal than Cthulhu or oil spills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One of us did this," Kyle started, looking at every one of the seven other faces in the circle of couches and sofa chairs surrounding him. One of his friends did this. One of the people he's known since before he was born was capable of mentally torturing him for over a month and gouging out their classmate's eyes. He met eyes with Eric Theodore Cartman sitting right across from him. "Someone in here attacked Bebe Stevens. They're the same person that's been obsessively stalking me, and it's the same individual who's threatened to kill someone close to me. Are we all clear on this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why did they do that to Bebe? She didn't even do anything…" Clyde whimpered out, nearly on the verge of crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because she touched Kyle, Clyde." Kenny solemnly answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>What does that even mean?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> The brunet was nearly in a panic, everyone there knew that the boy liked her and that it hit him the hardest. "What does touching Kyle have to do with any of this? Everyone touches him all the time! Stan and Kenny fucking touch him, Cartman touches him- I passed Kyle notes in class last week! Why am I not in the fucking hospital?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because she slapped me on the ass." Kyle quietly stated. "The day before she was attacked, she jokingly slapped my ass in the hallway when I bent down to get shit from my locker. That's the only thing I can think of that could've set </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle stood up abruptly, and marched to an empty spot facing everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want everyone to be completely honest about this. Don't hold back your feelings or suspicions…" He demanded, raising his hand up high. "Who here thinks Cartman did it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan, Token, Clyde and Butters all raised their hands with him, while Cartman, Kenny and Craig kept theirs down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Butters, I swear to fucking god, you put your fucking hand down or I'll-" Cartman threatened the small blond and he quickly did what he was told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you, Cartman," Stan spat out. "If he thinks you did it then you can't just force him to change his mind!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Also that just makes you look more suspicious." Token agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck off hippies, I'm not getting in shit for something I didn't do!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Enough! Kenny why don't you think Cartman did it?" Kyle asked, and it took a few moments of the blond pondering to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...It's not that I don't think he could have done it. It's just...the more I think about it, the more it seems like it's not Eric's style." The confused glances he got made the blond continue. "Cartman is a fucking creepy asshole, yeah. Don't give me that look dude you are- But every time he's done something, he's always done it...not like this. He needs us to know that he's the one that caused it even if we can't prove it; he's always rubbed it in your face. While this person, whoever they are, just seems out of control and like they can't bottle their emotions up anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Kyle nodded, taking what Kenny had to say to heart before turning to Craig. "What about you, why don't you think Cartman is my stalker?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because," Craig shrugged and slowly moved his gaze onto Stan. "I know someone else did it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, why are you looking at me?" Stan glared back at the fellow noiret, shock coursing through his system at the silent accusation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why would you think it's Stan?" Token asked his friend, this was the first time hearing about Craig's suspicions on the whole issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Owns a car, lives near Broflovski, has nearly all his classes with him, is fucking gay for him-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Go fuck yourself Craig, I'm not gay for Kyle!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stan shouted out, quickly getting to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Chews his food for him, jacks off to his hair-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's it!" Stan lunged for the apathetic teen, who stopped counting off reasons with his fingers and bolted up out of his chair to face him. Token and Clyde thankfully intervened between them, holding them off from scraping right then and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sit your ass down!" Kyle pointed to Stan who was pushed back down by Token onto the couch. "And you sit the fuck back down too, Craig!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Never tell me what to do, Broflovski." Craig warned, but let Clyde lead him back into sitting on his sofa chair anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, thank you Kyle for keeping your pit bulls in check for me." Cartman spoke up after watching the drama, he pulled out an easel and a bundle of large white poster paper and started to set it up. "Now that we got that needless shit out of the way, we can focus on why we are all here for. And that's finding out the true identity of Kyle's stalker. I- unlike Craig who sucks balls at accusing people- know for certain who this person is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh Lord." Kenny sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And just who is it Cartman, if not you?" Kyle spat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's simple," He started, and flipped over the first white sheet. It was a picture of Kyle taken during his sophomore picture day. "Kyle himself is the stalker, he set this whole thing up as a plea for attention."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goddammit, Cartman!" Kyle growled out, he should have figured that the fatass would have done this. Everyone else sighed in exasperation, hit their hands against their heads or was too preoccupied glaring silent daggers at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who else would be smart enough to pull this off?" Cartman continued, flipping to the next sheet with a drawing of Kyle putting a letter in a locker. "The supposed anonymous letters from an abortion clinic? How they always magically appear in his locker despite us staking it out? Who else could have access to it so thoroughly? Maybe slip it in just as he's opening the locker, hmmm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That is the fucking dumbest thing I have ever heard." Kyle snorted out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Or how they magically end up in your mail despite your mother never getting suspicious of all the letters you keep getting." Cartman started to sweat from excitement as he flipped through drawings of Kyle writing out letters in his room. "And what about Bebe? Who else but you would benefit from her attack? We're supposed to believe that your </span>
  <em>
    <span>apparent</span>
  </em>
  <span> stalker doesn't want anyone touching your jew ass, but I don't think that's it at all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn't want your ass touched by Bebe, and in retaliation broke both her hands and cut out her eyes so she couldn't figure out it was you and tell the police! Take a good look at what you did Kyle, cause your helpless little jew game is gonna end."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cartman ripped away the second to last sheet to reveal an x-ray of Bebe's hands. It was horrifying, literally every bone in them, big or small was fractured to hell or snapped in two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where the fuck did you even get that?" Kenny spat at the fat bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay Cartman, I get your point." Kyle agreed, earning shocked looks from nearly everyone there. "But answer me this- If I'm the one doing all this, as you say I am. Then who took the picture of my ass, you stupid fuck?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Your homo BFF Stan, aka your accomplice took the photo." Cartman smugly replied. "Knowing how you two </span>
  <em>
    <span>faggots</span>
  </em>
  <span> are I wouldn't be surprised if he helped you maul Bebe as well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You goddamn piece of shit-fucking assmunching fuckwad-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Easy." Kenny quickly wrapped an arm around Kyle's waist to stop the near crazed ginger from going ape shit on the smirking weasel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But really, all these accusations flying everywhere will get us nowhere." Cartman calmly explained and reached into his coat to pull out a key. "You see this? This is the answer to our problems. This key here opens the only way into the old abandoned wood mill five miles out of town. If we all stay there for one night I can guarantee you we'll find out the identity of Kyle's supposed </span>
  <em>
    <span>stalker</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And how is that going to make the stalker show themselves?" Butters asked politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It won't." Kyle answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, it will." Cartman countered. "You see, gentlemen. There's one thing that we can all agree on… and that is that he's here right now. One of us is the stalker. And predicting the stalker's reaction to this revelation- he won't be able to stay away. If Kyle is not really his own stalker- like I firmly believe he is- then his stalker won't be able to handle the thought of Kyle being all alone with five other people surrounding him all night without him knowing what exactly is going on inside that mill. He'll have to come. Cause if he doesn't...well, let's just say Kyle will be having a lot of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> without him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm doing it." Kyle declared. The declaration caught everyone off guard, but as Cartman's words started to sink in, each person came to their own decisions as well. "This is going to fucking end it, one way or another, I'm getting to the bottom of this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you're doing it, I'm doing it." Stan sat up and faced his friend. "I'm not letting you stay inside a creepy old mill with only Cartman and a homicidal fuck to keep you company."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me too, I'm in." Kenny agreed. And soon everyone else had agreed to the deal as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wonderful, I'm glad to see that all of you are on board with this." Cartman paused. "Butters, come forward."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is for you." He handed him the padlock key. "We need someone to stay on the outside of the mill to open it up in the morning and to make sure no one tries to sneak out of course. Is everyone alright with Butters being the gatekeeper? I think we're all in agreement on his chances of being the stalker."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah...that's fine I guess." Kyle reluctantly agreed, paranoidly thinking a what-if if Butters turns out to be the one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, is everyone free for Friday night?" Cartman's devilish smirk sent a chill down the ginger's spine. What exactly did he get himself into?</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The last note he received came Friday morning. On it was just three simple words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>It's ending tonight."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It left him in a jitterish and stressful mood with him making solemn eye contact with either Kenny or Stan throughout the whole day. When school let out, he took his time to pack his bag, flashlights, first aid kit, hunting knife, just the basics...just in case. He took the trip to the old mill in Stan's car with Kenny, and the three of them drove the whole way there in silence. The night fell early due to winter and the dense thickets of darkened trees lining the way made the whole trip down the gravel country road that much more eerie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got there, everyone else was already waiting in their own cars. Clyde came with Token, Butters with Cartman and Craig came alone it seemed. Getting out of the front passenger seat he noticed the looming structure to the left of the snow covered parking lot and it looked just as scary as he thought it would. He should have never trusted Cartman. He never does, but he couldn't hold out much longer. If this is what it took to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>to come out of hiding, then he would do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ready to go, pussies?" Cartman took the lead with a trailing Butters behind him and started to march toward the aged building. When the metal doors clanged open and the disheartening sound echoed through the dark walls it sliced into Kyle's ears like a guillotine. He froze at the entrance, too paralyzed at the noise to move past the snow into the cement threshold. His death was in there, he could taste it on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, dude." Stan gently urged him and grabbed the ginger's hand to lead him into the unknown. It helped him to snap out of his daze and his resolve strengthened with each step. They all stood in the center of the room with Cartman who just gave a stern nod towards an unsure Butters, making him slide the metal doors shut with a bang and lock them in before anyone could protest or weasel their way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now what?" Kenny asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now we get settled in, it's gonna be a long night." Cartman explained.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They split up. Why oh why did they split up? It was just like in those horror movies, it gave the monster or villain the perfect opportunity to pick them off, one by one until there was no one left but the helpless virgin. Kyle regretted never getting laid. He just wasn't as into the whole sex thing like everyone else seemed to be, but he should have at least done it once, for the novelties sake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you think I'll die a virgin, dude?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"W-What? Why this all of a sudden?" Stan mumbled, trying to keep his flashlight steady down the dark and narrow hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Forget I said anything." Kyle felt stupid for bringing it up, it's only been an hour or so and he's already starting to lose it. "I was just thinking of the whole virgin never dies in a horror movie cliche."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, haha. I don't know dude I think you'd make it either way, you're too smart to get killed off so easily. This is the perfect setup for one though. Do you think Cartman did this on purpose?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No shit he did, the fucking asshole." Kyle muttered as they turned a corner down an even narrower hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This should be the part where the characters come across a dead body or something then." Stan joked but stopped dead in his tracks when his flashlight caught something red at the end of the hall. "Dude."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh fuck you, Cartman." Kyle squinted at the blotch of rusty red stains leading into an opened door. "That asshole has got to do better than that if he's trying to freak us out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ginger walked calmly towards the puddle of fake ass blood and studied it intensely under the bright light of his shitty pocket sized flashlight. Dipping the tip of his finger in it, he noticed it was cold, like it's been there a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What type of crackhead does he think I am? This shit is juvenile." Kyle snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck off, Cartman. We're here to find out who's stalking Kyle not to play your dumb mind games." Stan's announcement above him before stepping over the blood and into the dark room made Kyle look up in his direction and notice for the first time Cartman slumped over on a desk filled with lit security footage. Stan had already noticed him and started looking around at all the live video feeds in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get the fuck up, Cartman. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit today." Kyle growled and got up to start shaking him. "We can see you planned this, you even have a security system hooked up you fucking moron."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed a hold of the fat boy's hair and cap and pulled him up to look at him in the face. And suddenly dropped him in fear, causing the body to fall backwards on the seat and reveal that Cartman's throat had been cut cleanly from ear to ear so deep that the white of his spine was jutting out of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stan backed up from the sight while Kyle realized that his shoes were covered in blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's really dead, holy fuck he's really dead!" Kyle's voice cracked, as he backed up as well into his friend. "WHAT THE FUCK?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"JESUS FUCK DUDE!" Stan grabbed Kyle by the arms and dragged him out and away from the horror show and both of them started sprinting down the way they came. By the time they reached near the entrance lobby they originally came in, a loud mechanical noise was making it impossible to hear anything, let alone yell for help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan pointed to the stairs on the opposite side of the entrance though and they both frantically ran towards them and the noise that vibrated down from the second floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The deafening noise was coming from a giant wood chipper and when the two finally got their bearings it soon became apparent why it had been turned on. Chunks of flesh, fabric, bone and blood were all that was left of whoever came head to head with the giant teeth of the machine and Kyle could only stare numbly in horror at the mess while Stan ran to the control panel, desperately trying to figure out how to turn it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the roar of metal crunching against metal finally stopped, it made his ears ring. A blur of Stan's silhouette ran past him to the end of the machine to check the other side but it was fruitless. Whoever it was, was now painted across the conveyor belt and floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh god, I think it was Token." Stan announced, his flashlight hovering over a chunk of scalp and curly black hair. Kyle finally moved again and shakily looked around to see if he could find anything to distinguish anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck." He found Clyde's shoe at the front, with a foot still partially in it. He tried to ignore the sound of Stan's vomit hitting the floor from the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, we need to get out of here." Stan announced, wiping the bile off his face with his sleeve. "Like right fucking now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tried to, running down the stairs to the locked entrance again to bang as loudly against the heavy metal doors as they could, screaming for Butters to unlock it and let them out. No one answered them though and two different but equally terrifying scenarios played out in his head. One, Butters was the stalker now turned killer and he's somewhere in there with them. Or two, the killer got to him too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where the fuck is Butters?" Stan yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found him down the central hallway, slumped over on the ground like he was dragging his body back towards the entrance but he bled out before he could make it. His throat was cut eerily precise as Cartman's, and it took all Kyle had to look away from the blond's glazed over eyes. Stan searched his body for the key, but it was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had no choice, they had to go further down the rabbit hole into the dark. The large room they came into had a long metal staircase leading down into a vast workshop. Each step they took down the stairs echoed in the hollow room and it made the hairs on Kyle's neck stiff with fright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait, dude- Wait." He stopped a few feet from the bottom and Stan turned around to look up at him in confusion. "There were only eight of us. Cartman, Butters, Clyde and Token are all dead. Who does that leave?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You and me," Stan answered hesitantly. "A-and Kenny and Craig."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then which one is it?" Kyle whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh fuck."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, Stan," He apologized to his friend out of nowhere, who looked even more confused and scared. "A small part of me thought you could have been my stalker, I should never have doubted you. You're my best friend dude."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, dude. I'm sorry, I should have tried harder to stop this." Stan reached up and gave the shaking ginger a hug, letting the boy rest his cheek on the top of his head. Kyle had barely relaxed into his hold when he felt Stan go stiff and gasp out loud in pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stan?" Kyle grabbed for his friend but the teen tumbled down the stairs and landed in a heap on the floor, clutching the back of his ankles in pain. "Stan!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran down after his friend, wondering what the fuck was going on and trying to stop the massive bleeding coming from both his friend's ankles, the achilles tendons had been severed cleanly in half. Had there been a wire or something on the stairs that they didn't see? He turned to look back at the staircase and something heavy with momentum slammed into the side of his head sending it ricocheting off the cement wall next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"NO-" He heard Stan scream out in surprise while something equally hard as the first rammed into his gut just under his ribs knocking the wind right out of him. He was thrown away from the stairs and Stan into the dark, the feeling of the icy cement floor scraped against his bare cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little light the abandoned flashlights gave illuminated the towering silhouette of Craig Tucker as he held Stan down and beat into his face. No restraint was given, even as the crippled man tried to push back and fight his attacker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan knew it would be Craig, the way the fucker acted at the meeting didn't sit right with him but Kyle was so focused on Cartman that anyone else was an afterthought. He grabbed for Craig's wrists and wrestled the lanky teen, trying to push him up and off. It was no use though, Stan had only so much more muscle than his opponent and a quickly decreasing blood supply. Another fist rammed into his face, causing black spots and stars to form but his adrenaline kept him going. A second, third and fourth hit into him with precision before he heard a yell of anger from somewhere to his left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle had grabbed his hunting knife and ran towards them, aiming for Craig's throat, but he moved suddenly off of Stan, kicking his face in before intercepting Kyle's shaky and inexperienced slash and bending his arm back in an unnatural and painful position. A quick and powerful jab from his knee to Kyle's twisted elbow made it crunch and pop out of place. The painful scream that echoed out of the ginger's mouth and into the empty room was silenced by Craig knocking the wind out of him again, this time with the jab of his other knee and he kicked the mangled boy onto the cold floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stay down, Broflovski." The even colder words echoed in the dark before he picked up and pocketed the dinky little knife. Craig casually walked back towards the body of Stan, or where Stan was supposed to be but instead was surprised when the nearly crippled jock came at him from his right with a plank of wood. He barely missed the mark, the taller man swerving out of the way of the swing and getting the enraged teen in his thigh instead with his own hunting knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same hunting knife he used to slash at Stan's ankles. The same one used to rip through both Cartman's fat neck and Butter's frail and delicate one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"FUCK." Stan fell to his knees in agony, trying to stop the blood from gushing out of the deep wound. This was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A heavy weight on his back pushed him onto his stomach and he realized with a jolt that a scarily calm Craig had sat on him. He tried to look into the dark to see where Kyle was, but could only hear the boy's broken sobs somewhere behind him. His hearing was getting muted, head getting fuzzy. He lost too much blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think we both know why we're here right now." Craig stated, grabbing a fist full of the man's black hair and pulled him back to look him in the eye one last time. "I just want to let you know that I'll take good care of him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the last thing Stan Marsh ever heard, next to the sickening crunch of his own face being smashed into the cement, over and over and over again. It was all Kyle could hear too, and he watched it dazed horror as Craig's cold and emotionless expression became more and more happy the longer the bloody rhythm of Stan's head echoed into the ground. The content little smile, turned into a smirk which turned into a full ear to ear grin that matched his wide and bloodshot eyes perfectly. He was so happy. It felt like the last of his burdens was gently lifted off his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, it was just him and Broflovski. He turned his cheshire grin onto the spot where he left the injured ginger to find him gone. He could hear the desperate footsteps running down the darkened room and see the fading flashlight before it turned a corner down a random hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn't really matter, he had both keys after all.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Kyle made it down three halls before tripping over another body. He quickly grabbed for the flashlight he dropped and tried to make a mad dash for it again when the bright orange of a parka caught his attention. It was Kenny, who was lying on his stomach with a knife sized hole in his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kenny...no." He nearly started hyperventilating, but stopped short when he heard a slight groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kyle?" Kenny was alive. Paralyzed from the waist down, but he was alive. Kyle embraced his friend while he rolled him onto his back. "Kyle, I can't feel my legs."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay dude, I got you." He sobbed out in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was Craig- Kyle, he killed Butters, he-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He killed everyone, dude. He just fucking murdered Stan." Kyle couldn't take it anymore and he burst out crying. The pain from his broken arm, the knowledge of his friends' deaths, watching his best friend getting his face turned into mulch was too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That bastard…" Kenny shakily whispered. "You know, I've always wanted to say that. Every once in a while I won't die right away and can still hear you guys. You always say it with such conviction."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not making any sense, Kenny." Kyle sobbed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay, you won't remember anyways." Kenny smiled a bittersweet smile and wiped the tears and blood from his friend's face. His expression though changed in an instant to one of murder when he looked over Kyle's shoulder. "I'm going to find you, fucker. And when I do you're gonna regret every decision you've ever made in your shitty and meaningless life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Kyle could understand what Kenny was getting at, a loud noise made his eardrums pop and ring and he watched as Kenny went limp in his arms with a bullet hole through his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good luck with that, McCormick." The deep monotone voice reverberated from above him, and he numbly glanced to the side to see a pair of blood soaked legs standing motionless behind him. Run away and get shot, or stay and let Craig do whatever he wanted to him. Those were the choices running through his adrenaline soaked brain. Flight or give up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chose to run away. Or tried to, but he got ten feet after dropping Kenny's body before Craig caught up and yanked his broken arm back. He held back a scream of pain while the unexplored option of fight mode kicked in on it's own and he started to swing at the psycho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't make me break your other arm, Broflovski." The killer warned before pistol-whipping the frenzied boy across his temple. Kyle ignored the pain shooting through his skull and he grabbed for the gun, trying to wrestle it out of Craig's hand. He was kneed again though while being pushed up against the wall in the narrow hall before Craig threw him back down on the ground and straddled the boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shoot me, mother fucker!" Kyle spat, biting and kicking at the man while he had the gun pressed to the ginger's cheek. "You can kill everyone else, you fuck! You piece of shit fuck!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That actually got Craig to pause in disbelief as he used his other arm to pin the smaller man down by his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You actually think I'm going to kill you, after I went through all this trouble to get you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're the insane one, Craig. You tell me!" Kyle spat. "You honestly think you can keep me alive without me running to the police and getting your ass sent to jail? Why me, Craig? After all this time, I think I have a right to know the reason why you murdered our fucking friends!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One- I'm not insane," Craig started, squeezing tighter on Kyle's throat. "Two- I do think that, yes. Three- Because I fucking love you. That's all you need to know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"NO-" Kyle stopped struggling against him and looked at him square in his dead eyes. "You can do whatever the hell you want to me- at this point I honestly don't give a fuck anymore. But you're gonna give me some fucking answers before you either wear my skin as a suit or keep me as a fucking hunting trophy!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed staring at each other in the dead silence for a few moments while Craig seemed to think over what the injured jew under him had said. After some time, he hesitantly let go of Kyle's neck but grabbed both his wrists instead to hold him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really want to know why?" Craig brought his face down to Kyle's, nearly nose to nose with him and the ginger felt a tinge of doubt when he saw something chaotic in those grey eyes. Maybe it was better if he didn't know the reason why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, Craig. I really do." Kyle's stomach lurched when he bent down even closer, like he was going to kiss him and he moved his head to the side to avoid it. Instead Craig ghosted his lips up and down his pale cheek- blood and all, and slowly inhaled Kyle's scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's your fault. It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> your fault." He admitted in a deep hush, and moved to pull off Kyle's green ushanka. He started to run his fingers through the ginger's sweat soaked hair. Kyle didn't have the guts to stop him. "Do you remember freshman year? When they started that stupid rule about not wearing hats indoors? I sat behind you in math class that year. You didn't even notice. You were so self conscious about your hair...and I had to see you run your fingers through it each and every day."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And then gym class came. And every time you came into the showers, I got so hard I had to learn to take cold ones. I fucking hate cold showers. You don't even realize how nice your ass is...Stan did, Bebe did, Kenny did, even the fatass knew. The only one who was unaware was you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle felt fingers crawling down his narrow hip and snuggle onto the side of said ass, moving up and down in a slow petting motion. His insides felt like ice but still he didn't move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just want to strip you naked and keep you in a little box. And every day I would get to bath you, and feed you and let you out for a walk at the park or snuggle with you on the couch while watching my favorite documentaries. You'll be my perfect little pet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You already have a pet to do all those things with, Bro-Bro, remember? Your guinea pig?" Kyle suggested, the growing fear of the man above him coming out in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're smarter than that, Broflovski." Craig let a smirk show to his frightened victim. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You know you can't fuck a guinea pig</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The implications of that sentence made a jolt of blind fear run through his body and he unconsciously started to struggle again to get out of Craig's hold. The psycho relinquished his hold on Kyle's ass to hold down both wrists again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wanna know how I got so good with a knife? Trent Boyett. He's actually a nice guy if you're not on his shit list. He taught me all the right tricks and moves to win in a knife fight, a gun fight and even fights where you have no knives or guns and everyone else does. You could have known that stuff too, if you weren't such assholes and just apologized to him properly. But that's not you, is it Broflovski? You always have to do the same predictable shit every time. That's what gets you into situations like these."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rage replaced fear and made Kyle growl at the asshole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow, someone's stalking you." Craig's voice got even more snarky and monotone if that was possible. "Let's try to invite them to an abandoned warehouse instead of phoning the police. Someone's sending you incriminating letters with their body fluid all over it, let's pass it around the table so it gets contaminated. It's not like you could have sent that to a genetics lab and gotten everyone to take a DNA test or something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck. You. Craig." Kyle spat on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Too bad we don't have time for that." Craig didn't even move to wipe the spit off his cheek, instead he surprised the pissed off ginger by twisting his long arm weirdly around Kyle's throat and started to choke him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"FU-" Kyle tried to get out of his death grip but all he could muster was a few weak and painful kicks from his legs and flails of his arms until he started to see black spots forming in his vision, and then nothing.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The next thing he was aware of was being on the cold cement floor near the opened entrance to the mill and the tall figure of Craig in the snow stripping off his blood soaked clothes and washing his body and face with a towel. Kyle tried to move his body but the bungee cables wrapped around his limbs and torso made it impossible.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He woke up again when he was being moved into the backseat of Craig's car and the warmth of the car's heater hit him. The blurry image of a freshly changed Craig without his blue chullo came into view and he wrapped Kyle like a burrito with a blanket after taking off the cables. Kyle doesn't remember how he got strapped into all the seatbelts so quickly.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>A pain in his leg made him open his drowsy eyes, Craig was in a winter coat now and was throwing away a used needle and putting a bottle of something clear back into a thermos bag. It made Kyle even sleepier.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The time on the dash said 11:23 pm and it seemed too short of time had passed. The car had jolted to a stop and Craig had the window rolled down, talking to someone. Trent Boyett's face appeared, looking into the tinted back windows at him. He had a horrible smile. Kyle wanted to scream at him but nothing came out. They constructed fake cardboard boxes around him, with cutouts that fit snugly to his body. There was a square piece that he could look and breathe out of, but the rest of him just looked like a bunch of moving boxes filled with Craig's shit.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Thanks, man. I owe you a lot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine, did you change your license plates yet?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mhmm."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good, just don't lose that batch of sedatives, my ma can only take so much before the clinic starts gettin' suspicious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I won't. They're in with his insulin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle thought it was a dream, it sounded like one, where all the voices and sounds ran together in fuzzy harmony.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Don't worry, Broflovski. I'll drive carefully." Craig's gentle voice woke him again. He didn't want his twisted kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to go home, drive me home." He managed to mumble out in his daze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wasn't talking to you." That's when Kyle opened his groggy eyes and noticed Craig taking great pains to put his guinea pig back in his cage on the front seat as gently as possible. Kyle started to cry.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had deleted this and most of my fanfics off the internet a few years ago, but lately I've felt a rush of nostalgia and finding out that people still like my work. I will try to post it back up for anyone interested in reading them. I also have very old WIPs fics that I forgot about and I will see to finishing them up and posting them as well. I am busy drawing commissions for other things so this is something low on the priority list of things I need to get done. </p><p>Thank you for enjoying if you did, I don't blame you if you didn't enjoy this though. I'm not really into MxM anymore though, I'm a lot more into FxM and if I would draw any MxM stuff with Kyle he would be depicted like a femboy since it's the closest thing to a female that I can get him without changing his character completely.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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